The morning sun rose slowly over the edge of the town, spilling soft gold across rooftops that had long forgotten paint and pride.
In the poorest corner of the kingdom, where the cobblestones were cracked and the air smelled faintly of smoke and stale bread, Lina woke before the bells.
She always woke before the bells.
It was a habit carved into her bones long before she learned to speak. Long before she learned that survival meant moving before the world demanded it.
The tiny attic room was cold. The blanket she slept under was thin enough to feel like paper, but Lina had grown used to the bite of morning air. She pulled herself upright and tucked her long dark hair into a loose braid, fingers moving quickly from memory.
Across the room, a small mirror leaned against the wall. Its surface was scratched and clouded with age, but it still reflected the girl who stared into it every morning as if trying to recognize someone else.
Large grey eyes. Pale skin dusted with freckles. Soft lips that rarely smiled unless no one was watching.
Lina studied her reflection quietly.
"You look like trouble," the baker's wife had once muttered, watching Lina pass the shop window. "Too pretty for a girl with no family."
Lina never understood why beauty could sound like an accusation.
She turned away from the mirror and pulled on her worn dress, patched so many times that no original fabric remained.
The bells began ringing in the distance.
Work time.
The bakery opened before sunrise, and Lina had worked there since she was ten years old. The baker, Master Henrick, never spoke much, but he let her sleep in the attic and paid her in bread, which in her world was wealth.
The scent of fresh loaves greeted her the moment she pushed open the back door.
Warmth wrapped around her like a hug she pretended not to need.
"You're late."
Henrick didn't look up from kneading dough, but Lina smiled anyway.
"I'm early," she corrected softly.
"You're late in spirit."
She laughed under her breath and tied on her apron.
Flour dusted the air like snow as they worked. Knead. Shape. Bake. Stack. Repeat.
It was quiet work. Honest work.
And Lina liked quiet.
Noise brought attention.
Attention brought questions.
Questions brought danger.
She had learned that lesson young.
By midday, the bakery filled with customers. Nobles' servants, merchants, guards, and occasionally—if Lina was unlucky—noblewomen themselves.
Noblewomen always stared too long.
Today was no different.
The door chimed, and Lina felt it before she saw it.
Silence.
That strange, sudden silence that only arrived when wealth entered a poor room.
Two noblewomen stepped inside, their gowns sweeping dust across the floor as though the ground itself should apologize for touching them.
Lina kept her eyes down as she handed over wrapped loaves.
But one of them didn't take the bread.
She stared.
Hard.
"You," the woman said slowly. "Look at me."
Lina's fingers tightened around the basket.
She lifted her gaze carefully.
The noblewoman's expression shifted from curiosity to shock.
For a heartbeat, the woman looked… afraid.
Then she grabbed her companion's arm and hurried out without another word.
The bell rang wildly behind them.
Henrick frowned.
"That's the third noble this month," he muttered. "What's wrong with your face?"
Lina forced a smile.
"I wish I knew."
But deep in her chest, something cold stirred.
This wasn't new.
People had stared at her like that before.
Like they recognized her.
Like they had seen her somewhere she had never been.
That night, Lina walked home beneath a sky full of stars she could never name.
The town quieted early, and the streets emptied quickly. She preferred it that way.
Fewer eyes.
Fewer questions.
She paused beside the fountain in the square, staring at the water's reflection.
Sometimes she wondered who she would be if she had been born into warmth instead of survival.
Would she laugh louder?
Speak freely?
Dream bigger?
The idea felt too fragile to touch.
A group of guards marched past, their armor glinting under torchlight.
"The prince returns tomorrow," one of them said.
Lina barely listened at first.
The prince.
Royal matters had nothing to do with girls who traded bread for rent.
But then the guard continued.
"The whole capital is preparing. Festival, parade, celebrations. The prince hasn't visited the outer districts in years."
Lina's heart skipped.
Festival.
Festivals meant crowds.
Crowds meant nobles.
Nobles meant danger.
She turned away from the fountain quickly.
Tomorrow would not be a quiet day.
And Lina had always trusted her instincts.
Something was coming.
Something that would shatter the fragile life she had built from crumbs and silence.
She just didn't know yet that fate had already begun walking toward her.
And it wore a crown.